In the last light of sunset, White Rock City's towering walls cast vast, cold shadows, like a monstrous beast lying in wait.
Inside those walls, in stark contrast to the despair and chaos among the refugees outside, a deliberately maintained, oppressive calm prevailed.
The city's largest mansion, once owned by a wealthy merchant, had been requisitioned by the Minisian Army as its headquarters.
In the study, the fireplace stood unlit because of the heat, and the windows were closed, leaving the air somewhat stale and stuffy.
A man in the dress uniform of a senior Minicia Kingdom officer stood before a tall, elaborately carved window, his back to the door.
He was not powerfully built-in fact, he was rather thin-but the golden cords on his epaulettes and the elaborate medals on his chest spoke silently of his authority.
The golden sunset outlined the general's slightly graying temples and illuminated his meticulously trimmed short beard.
The general held a glass of dark red wine, swirling it leisurely as the amber liquid revolved inside.
He was General Hoffman, newly appointed to command the Minicia Kingdom's eastern defensive line. Of noble birth and renowned for his cunning and ruthlessness, he was privately called "Red Fox" by the troops.
"General, I've arranged for our people to quietly spread word through the refugees that White Rock City is short of troops."
A rather young voice spoke behind the general.
The speaker was General Hoffman's adjutant, a young officer from his own family.
"General, will this work?"
General Hoffman did not turn around. He merely raised his glass to his lips and took a small sip, his gaze still directed outside... From there, he could see the orderly city streets, patrolling soldiers, and the occasional civilian hurrying past with their head lowered, afraid to look around.